


A Temperate Gray

by The_Annoying_DAHG



Series: Poetry [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Poetry, Rants, this started out pretty but became a diss track lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28142817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Annoying_DAHG/pseuds/The_Annoying_DAHG
Summary: A poem about my feelings toward winter.
Series: Poetry [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063175
Kudos: 2





	A Temperate Gray

When the gold of the fall dries away into gray,

the world seems at peace for most of the day.

The children are testing away in their schools,

and the only ones out are, if I may say, fools.

I don't like the cold. It's too much for me,

and the weather I live in is just too sunny.

Too cold to feel nice, too hot to get snow,

The homeostasis is boring, you know?

Sure, the holidays are fun, and that's nice and all,

but what about New Year's? When it comes to call

It's freezing and dry and my skin dries all gross,

and there's not even snow to make it feel less morose.

Why do people hate summer? I can't understand it.

Well, I guess you could say if it wasn't all planned, it

gets very boring, and people all say

That at least with the winter, you can warm up all day.

Maybe in places like New York or Maine,

'cause your summers are temperate. I'd prob'ly feel the same.

But in North Carolina, our summers are hot,

and that counts for our winters, so snow? I bet not.

I say all this to say summers aren't that bad.

There's vacations and cool treats and cookouts, so I'm glad

that I live in the South, where our weather is fun,

at least in the summer. That's when I like the sun.

When the gray of the winter gives way to the spring,

I think of how seasons are a wonderful thing.

The spring brings us warmth, and my birthday comes by.

School lets out, children play, and my skin isn't dry.

Then summer comes through, and the spring drifts away.

The temperature's something I'd take any day

over 50 degrees for American folks,

and that's 10 degrees for you Celsius blokes.

The summer closes off with the brilliant fall,

yet it might be the most average season of all.

I don't like the chill, or the colors on trees.

We only get browns as far as we can see.

When the brown of the fall dries away into gray,

I'm seething online for the bulk of the day,

writing poems that sort out the way that I feel,

and given the time, winter's right on my heel.


End file.
